It's early when JJ and John B arrive at the veterinary clinic. Atlas, who had grown attached to JJ over the last few days, was curled up under his chair, softly snoring. The towheaded of the pair sat with his legs crossed. The brunette sat scrolling through Instagram.
JJ didn't have Instagram anymore, or any form of social media, aside from the one for their little business they had. JJ didn't have the urge to see what Kiara was up to, or anyone for that matter. Salt life had fallen into place for him, only this time around he had no inkling of ever needing to struggle. He'd started a Charter, taking Tourons around the island and letting little kids drive the boat, although they weren't really. It was just a play steering wheel that he'd installed. But it made him feel good that he could make the kiddos feel good.
On weekends, when he didn't run JJ Maybank Charters, he ran JJ Maybank Surf Lessons. At first, there weren't many takers, considering JJ's reputation. But a little help from Anna Carrera, and Pogue-Moms ranting and raving about how kind and gentle he was, he'd developed a business that needed a wait list. Eventually, he'd jazzed it up a bit. It was a three-weekend course, with five courses running between May and September. They all graduated and got little certificates and got a surfboard. The payment was mostly for the surfboard. JJ did it for the feeling, because he sure as hell didn't need the money. And he didn't charge the Pogue-Mom's very much either. Atlas, his new friend, was helping him on these endeavors now. And boy did people love her.
At first, she was scared shitless. But now? She was a total ham!
"Atlas?" A woman called softly.
It had been a little over a week since he'd gotten her, which meant John B had a little less than a week here on Kildare Island. The thought hung heavy over them. John B and JJ had never been apart more than a week in their entire lives, aside from when John B and Sarah were thought to be dead. He followed JJ and his new puppy into the room, sitting on the bench. JJ answered a million questions, but John B was a million miles away.
JJ had gotten older these last six months. Thinner, more calculated, less impulsive. Lines had formed on his face from frowning and furrowing and sobbing at night when he thought nobody could hear. He wasn't eating, barely sleeping. He had a counselor, but his counselor didn't know the JJ that John B knew, and John B suspected that JJ wasn't disclosing everything to the woman.
"Based on her teeth and her paws, I'd say she's about four months." The vet told them. "She's definitely not a German Shepherd, though. By the looks of it, I'd say she's a King Shepherd."
"King Shepherd?" John B asked, tilting his head.
"They're designer dogs. Look like Shepherds, but they're bigger. Mixed with power breeds like Malamutes and Akitas. Sweeter, too, less territorial and more apt to be friendly to everyone they meet." She spoke, as Atlas licked her hand. "Make no mistake, though, boys. She's gonna get really big, really quick. If she's not well exercised, well trained, and given plenty of projects, she'll find her own projects. And they won't always be projects you'll like."
"Projects?" He asked.
"Jobs. She's a working dog. Keep her occupied to avoid her getting into mischief."
"Hey! She's like you." John B nudged him with a grin.
"She helps me run Charters and Surf School." He offered.
The vet nodded, sticking a needle in her thigh. Atlas flinched but showed no signs of aggression. "That's a good start, Mr. Maybank. But Atlas here needs things to keep her occupied. Reward balls filled with peanut butter, have her go get the mail, puzzle bowls for her food." She elaborated. "Make sure you keep her mind sharp too. Dogs like this are eager to please. Training would be your best option. I can set you up with a trainer, if you'd like."
He nodded. "That would be great."
"She's not gonna feel very well for the rest of the day. I had to give her quite a few vaccines. You said you rescued her?" She asked JJ.
"Yeah, from the guy up the street. Not exactly a stand-up guy, pretty sure he was beating on her." He told her, shivering at the thought. "Had to rename her and everything."
"Well, good thing you did. This guy was bad news. Poor girl probably hasn't even been seen by a vet in her life." She smiled, before shaking hands with JJ and handing him a baggie. "This is for you. Has some handbooks, some goodies, my card. You call if anything goes wrong, but otherwise she seems healthy. I say come back in two months so she can get the rest of her shots."
"You hear that, Atlas, you got a clean bill of health!" He cooed at the dog, who was laying on the floor. Her tail wagged as she looked up at him.
Thump thump thump.
He and John B climbed into the Twinkie. JJ looked back into the now-rv on wheels. The Twinkie was originally a camper van, so it wasn't a problem expanding the roof to be tall enough for him to stand comfortably. A bed, a stove, a shower hookup and a curtain for outside. There was a roof deck, solar panels. They were good to go. The heavy silence still remained, though. JJ and John B had spent the better half of the last six months swinging wildly between the Chateau and the Twinkie when they weren't running their business. Lots of sleepless nights and early mornings were spent working on this van. It was a labor of love, but now that they were almost there, down to the wire, JJ felt sick to his stomach.
"I'm gonna miss you guys." He told his friend, absentmindedly scratching Atlas's ears.
"We'll be back for Thanksgiving, and we'll talk every day." John B had offered him, but the tone of his voice betrayed him.
"Do you have separation anxiety too?" He asked his pseudo-brother.
"Big time." John B admitted.
And, it wasn't like they hadn't gone through the same thing with Pope. But this? This was different. The bond would always be different between the two because they'd been glued to each other's side since age three. They'd experienced the hardships of life together. Two missing mothers, a deadbeat abusive father, and one who was so obsessed with treasure they had to bury him in a South American rain forest. They'd lost. They'd fought. The bond was for life. The silence was back, but lighter. Like the air stopped holding its breath.
"I'm worried about you, JJ."
The heaviness returned with a vengance, squeezing them like a snake suffocating its next meal.
There it was. The topic the two had been dancing around and avoiding since Anna Carrera came and dropped that bomb on them nine days after they returned from Los Angeles. JJ snorted, picking lint that didn't exist off his pants.
"Why's that?" He asked, tone cool.
John B's grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white. He stopped, and JJ took stock in where they were. They were at the Chateau.
"Don't, JJ." He spoke, but it was gritty, his voice full of emotion. "You've been acting weird."
"Weird how?"
"God, will you cut the shit with that?" He slammed two fists against the steering wheel, making Atlas jump. JJ raised an eyebrow. He spoke softer this time, but with the same force necessary to cut through the JJ-wall. How he ever wound up on the other side of it, was beyond him. "You're all calm, and cool, and this weird guy who body snatched my best friend."
"Ouch." He couldn't help it, it was part of him now.
"There it is again." John B pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just because you're not doing dumb shit and going AWOL anymore doesn't mean that you're suddenly over whatever the fuck has been going on with you since Kie left."
The blonde stiffened at the mention of Kie. This is the first time anyone has been brave enough to actually breach the topic with him since that day with Mike and Anna. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?" This time, his tone lacked indifference and was tinged with anger that he'd been shoving down his gut since he got back.
"I said it because I care, JJ. Not because I'm out to get you. Yeah, your bad habits subsided, but your personality went right out the window with it." John B told him. "You're not eating, you're not sleeping, you look ten years older, you're dating a skank junkie that you never would have thought of touching with a ten-foot pole, you pretend like Kiara just doesn't exist. There's no joking, there's no-"
"Alright, Alright." He cut his brunette friend off. "I get it. You're worried Anna's right, aren't you? That you're gonna come back and I'm not gonna be here? That Jo's gonna turn me into Luke?" It was snippy.
Now that it was in the air, out in the open, the shame bubbled up from both parties. It was an uncomfortable conversation for different reasons.
"Maybe I am. Is that wrong?"
For John B, the thought of his friend being dead, or developing a drug problem had been haunting him. His stomach twisted at the thought. But now he felt small, the notion of JJ assuming he thought so little didn't sit so right with him.
For JJ? He'd be lying if he said the thought didn't cross his mind minimum three times a day. But he couldn't tell his friend that four days before he was set to embark on the journey they'd been planning for two years. So, to give John B some relief from his worry, he did the only thing he knew how.
John B hoped this would be the end of the conversation. He'd cry and admit to it and go get help. But the new JJ had other plans, more harrowing ones. That was the downside to new JJ. He was less emotional and less apt to being swayed. The blonde exited the van, startling Atlas, who jumped out with him.
"JJ!" He called.
But his friend walked down the trail path, Atlas trotting at his heels.
Damnit.
Sarah and Pope sat in their little shop.
This was the business they'd build from scraps. Something they'd longed and hoped for in a world where they quite literally had nothing. Now, though? They all had soft cushy landings. Money made itself without having to lift a finger, the shop was basically for fun at this point.
The oscillating fan hummed, the waves crashed softly against the shorline, and a summer breeze rustled through the green leaves. Sarah's eyes stayed glued to the horizon, watching as the water sparkled under the unforgiving June sun. It was the hottest June they'd had on record, and it didn't seem that the heat would let up any time soon.
The shop was slow.
It was terrible for business. Who the hell wanted to be out on a boat in this sun?
Nobody.
Those were simply passing thoughts, however. Sarah's gut that swirled like the breeze mixing with the fan, was acting up due to one thing, and one thing only. Her blonde friend.
From the outside, everything looked fine. JJ had successfully turned his name into one that people didn't immediately scowl at. Surf School and Charters, and good word from Anna and other Pogue mothers had helped that much. He ran three miles almost every day, six on Sundays.
But Sarah wasn't on the outside. Or at least, not really.
She saw right through him, like if you turned a light on behind a two-way mirror.
And it worried her.
She should be excited about this trip she was about to embark on with her fiance. And she had been ready to blow this popsicle stand until he started doing it with Jo.
Then she heard him crying one night. And the night after, and the night after, you get the point.
And then, she noticed he wasn't eating. It was subtle. He'd forget, like his pastry. But he'd withered away since December. His muscles were almost totally gone, and his face was sunken. She cursed herself for not realizing.
And then she told John B, and his reaction didn't necessarily help.
And now she spotted him coming up the driveway. He got out. No JJ.
Pope looked up, hearing the door slam, and John B's cursing rang through the shop.
"Where's-" Pope started, but was cut off by John B flinging his hat off, and it hitting the wall as he sat on the couch.
"He'll turn up somewhere..." He trailed off. "Hopefully."
"Hopefully? Where'd he go?" Pope asked, curling a brow.
He recounted his JJ encounter with them.
"And you just let him go?" Sarah asked him incredously.
"What did you want me to do? Kidnap him?"
The response made Pope purse his lips. He'd said the same thing about Kiara, and look where the situation led them. His phone vibrated in his hand.
The number wasn't saved.
Hey.
That's what it said. He clicked the lock, ignoring the message. It would have to wait.
It buzzed again.
I know we haven't talked since I left, but I really need someone to talk to. Text me back when you get this.
He just stared at the phone in his hands, not knowing what to do. Fifty fifty chance it was either Kiara or someone pretending to be her and after their money. He knew it was Kie, though. He tuned back in on his conversation with the other Pogues.
He'd respond to her later.
He had to find his friend.